on the new yorker and dali, thanks.

dear readers,

yesterday was the first day of class, a summer session. high school students getting a taste of the college life. after i concluded, they walked out, and one by one, said thanks. i kinda felt like a bus driver, and i was moved. saying thanks only takes a heartbeat of a moment, but it can last.

in this post i’d like to say thanks. not like to the gods without whom none of this would be possible, to my partner who stuck by me, mom and dad this ones for you, everyone over at sony–not like that. not yet. i just want to say thanks. this one goes out to a couple, recent, top of the line muses.

thanks to the new yorker, for running the most attention seeking magazine cover of my entire lifetime.


i feel a few different ways about this debacle. but first i want to note, this is a visual work that makes me feel.

that’s the umbrella point. here’s the nitty gritty:

on one hand, i want no more than to sex pistol dive through the glass facade of the new yorker office, let’s get physical, media accountability campaign meet the conde nast building, 4 times square, manhattan, ny. (attention homeland security, i am just joking, gosh, take everything so seriously why don’t you?!). at least one person needs to get their ass beat for this cover. everyone’s so quick to be hardcore when their almost untouchable. but word on the street is, the folks behind this cover and this world wide war are folks who’ve never once found the confidence to give a pound or daps to their fellow human being. this cover fans the flames of genocide. the world at war is too gone for this, the old too childlike from soul collapsing defeat, adults too embattled, the youth too tired from bullet dodging to have to crawl away from this “travesty of a mockery of a sham”. (ward churchill)

on the other hand, but for the genocidal context of this cover, i actually kinda dig the drawing.

the white house image they depicted is almost exactly what most revolutionary heads would hope for. asaata shakur and a brown man capable of embracing the muslim diaspora in the oval office? a couple who loves each other in private, not just for the cameras? war is on the horizon, and our leaders are so prepared, they can smile in the midst of impending battle? sigh. if only.

thanks also to salvador dali for throwing the seeds of his imagination to generations. dali painted solemn men balancing french loaves while riding bicycles, a whole crop of black suited, bowler hatted men growing out of brown rolling hills like corn. he had a way of illuminating, painting these just right sunlit glows into the tranced out edges of his slate gray melancholy. dali drew for movies, from disney to hitchcock to his own gory shorts. the disney piece has a ballet dancer, she has no face, just a moon-like orb for a head, and she is aglow and dainty, in all white against a stark brown landscape. the dancer is dancing, and suddenly her head rolls off, she begins rolling it across the tops of her arms, she dances with the head off her shoulders, an impossible, relaxing twist. and those are just 3 examples of dali’s mind. an innovative dali exhibit, using cinematography and stills, runs till september at the new york museum of modern art.


thank you for reading. stay tuned for more of “all the news that’s fit to flip,” from your favorite political poet, naXal.


N/roopa singh

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One thought on “on the new yorker and dali, thanks.

  1. Anirvan says:

    Dunno, I actually sort of enjoyed the cover, mocking the way an increasingly mainstreamed right-drifting Obama is still seen by some as some sort of Black-Muslim-commie-jihadist-traitor.

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